headquarters!â
Suddenly Ben Beaumontâs phone starts to ring.
âItâs GALACTIC,â he says, looking at the number. âIâd better get this.â
The others stare at me in surprise. âHow did you know Benâs phone was about to ring?â asks Asuka.
âMy sensory system is wired to receive all incoming and outgoing frequencies.â
âWhoa! So youâre like a giant radio?â asks Roger. âHow do we change the station on you?â
âNegative. I am not a radio.â
âRelax, Sam, it was a joke,â says Jay.
Ben snaps his phone shut. âThereâs a robbery in progress at the Happy Android Robotics Factory. The Star League are needed right away.â
âWeâll take one of the studio cars,â says Jay. âI just hope we make it in time!â
âI detect an error in our strategy,â I say. âMost break-and-enter crimes take, on average, thirteen minutes and forty-eight seconds to complete. If we take a studio car it will take us fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds to arrive.â
âYeah? So why are we wasting time standing around chatting?â asks Connor.
âI thought I should inform you that I have engineered a method of transport that will get us there precisely eight minutes sooner. Follow me.â
I lead the others out into the studio lot to my workshop in an old garage. I slide open the garage door to reveal a shiny black car.
âI have adapted this car to run on nitrogen tetroxide and hydrazine, more commonly known as rocket fuel.â
âItâs a rocketcar?â asks Jay, his eyes wide. âWhen did you get time to do all this?â
âBecause I am a robot I do not sleep. That means I have a lot of time to perfect inferior human technology.â
âWell, if we donât hurry up and get in the car, a whole lot of that inferior human technology is going to go missing!â says Asuka. âLetâs go!â
We all jump in and I set the coordinates for the robotics factory. The autopilot takes over and begins to drive us out of the lot.
âUh, Iâm not sure I like being driven around by something I canât see,â says Leigh. âWhat if it crashes?â
âThe chances of crashing in this car are less than 0.01 per cent compared to a 13 per cent chance of accident with an inferior human driver,â I say, trying to put her and the others at ease.
But Connor seems annoyed. âWill you knock off this âinferior humanâ business, Sam? We may be inferior to your robot brain but it doesnât mean weâre not as good.â
âActually, that is the definition of inferior,â I say. If I ever made a mistake I would want somebody to correct me so I could adjust my programming accordingly and not make the same mistake again. But Connor doesnât seem to see it that way. I quickly scan his vital signs and body language, and my data systems inform me that he is experiencing the emotion known as anger.
âI did not mean to anger you, Connor. Here, perhaps some of your favourite music will make you feel better.â I switch on the carâs audio system and a style of music known as heavy metal comes out of the speakers.
âHey, this is my favourite song,â says Connor. âHow did you know that?â
âBy careful analysis of your personal tastes and belongings,â I say.
âWait a minute, does that mean you go through our stuff?â asks Roger.
âOf course I do,â I answer. âPart of myprogramming is to gather as much information as possible.â
The others look furious, though I donât see why theyâd be angry with me.
âDonât be mad at Sam,â says Jay, trying to calm the others down. âHe doesnât understand. Besides,â he continues, glancing out the window, âweâre here.â
As we jump out of the car the others glare at me. But that